Piratical Prompts
by Madam Pudifoot
Summary: 100 short stories based on the Sparrow/Teague family. Explores their relationships, misadventures, and the method behind the madness. The word limit is more of what you might call a guideline.
1. Rip

**Disclaimer**: It's a little depressing to know that a mouse owns more than I do, but alas, it is true. It ain't mine, I'm just playing in someone else's universe.

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Prompt: Rip  
Characters: Jack Sparrow  
Rating: G

Rip

He could scarcely believe his luck! There, lying on the dirt road in the middle of Tortuga, was a shiny gold guinea!

Better yet, a shiny, _unnoticed _gold guinea.

Jack didn't much care how it got there or where it had come from; all that mattered was that it was his now.

As he bent to retrieve the coin, he began imagining how many pints of rum it would get him. He might even have enough for a cozy room later -- female company provided!

The silly grin was wiped from his face instantly as a dull _Shriiiiip _sounded from behind him. Jack glanced cautiously around, eyes wide with shock as he checked to see that no one had seen the incident.

Assured that he was thoroughly ignored, Jack straightened slowly, clutching the money in a tight-fisted hand, grateful that he never went anywhere without his coat.

Perhaps he could risk sacrificing rum for the greater good of his dignity.


	2. Education

Prompt: Education  
Characters: Teague and young Jack  
Rating: G

Educating Jack

"It's high time we set to work on your education, boy."

"But I can mostly read, and write, sir. An' I can almost count to ten!"

"Not books, Jackie._ Pirating._"

"But mum said—"

"Now, the most important thing to remember, is to always give 'em a show, lad."

"What about swords? And nav'gating?"

"Ah, you're thinking with your head, but not your mind. A little creativity is what sets the legends apart from the rest. If you've a mind to make something for yourself, you'll need your wits, and just enough charm to see that things go smoothly."

"Oh… Like you do with mum, when she gets c-clam-us?"

"Ah, well, you're a might young for that, yet. Perhaps we'd best work our way up, then, eh?"

"Like pistols?"

"Nay. Was thinking more along the lines of... knots. Easy, but very important. Can't get into trouble learning knots, can you?"


	3. Red

Prompt: Red  
Characters: Teague and Jack  
Rating: PG

Shades

Teague's always loved the color, in all of its shades and hues, from the fire of the sun on the horizon, to the serene pastels of shells washed ashore. But seeing it now, like this – gushing from his son's chest, the result of a single miscalculated step– he thinks it's the ugliest sight he's ever beheld.

He wonders dimly, watching as the crew carry Jack's pale body into Teague's own bedchamber, if the last thing he'll ever see of his boy is the rusty stain of drained life, soaked across the deck of his beloved ship.

_Curriculum vitae, _or perhaps destiny - to breathe one's first and last breath in the same bed.


	4. Flight

Prompt: Flight  
Characters: Teague and young Jack  
Rating: G

Icarus

"Look Da – sir – Captain! I tied it just like you said! Does this mean I can join your crew now?"

"Well, let's take a look at it before –" A shout went up, cutting Teague off, as he turned to survey his crew.

There was a commotion on the main deck, men shouting and scampering, the sounds of line snapping and crates bursting.

Teague was halfway to his feet when a sudden rush of movement to his side caught his attention. He turned, expecting to find Jack shadowing him, but the deck was empty –the whirring of a loose line the only sign of life.

Teague had already turned back to the crew, expecting that the boy had wanted to get into the mix himself, before the revelation hit him. Jack had been practicing on the slack line!

He found himself propelled toward the railing, in desperate search of the lad, without willing himself to move. Panic had set his body in motion without room for thought.

The waterline was tranquil – the sight put a terror in his gut. If Jack hadn't landed in the water, then there was only one other place he could've hit – the deck. Just as the thought crossed his mind, a series of shouts – screams – drew him back to the men. They were all staring at the sky, slack-jawed, eyes wide in awe. Teague's eyes followed the other's path.

For a moment, time stood still, as his mind numbly tried to register what he was seeing. A dark streak marred the cloudless blue sky, small, and indistinguishable. It soared through lines and sails, like a bird, ricocheting, and unstable – a bird that had never learnt to fly at all – before it came crashing smartly into the quarterdeck.

His vision swam before him, as a terrible pain gripped him, mind and body. He was flying through the crowd, throwing men from his path, and taking the stairs two at a time, before his mind could process what had happened.

Fear clouded his judgment for a split-second, just as he was nearing the top of the steps. Did he really want to continue? To see what had befallen his son? The notion was banished as quickly as it had come.

A mass was sprawled across the wood, limp and unmoving. His breath caught in his chest, and his heart spluttered feebly before stilling completely. _Not Jackie_.

He watched, blindly, as the thing flopped weakly, arms flailing as the body tried to orientate itself. The world came crashing back around him, but he paid it no mind; there were more pressing matters to see to.

Jack had miraculously managed to sit up, albeit wobbling, like a newly born calf, and was staring with eyes so round, Teague worried they might burst from his skull. It seemed to take him a minute to realize where he was, because as soon as the coal black eyes focused, a pathetic wail issued, followed swiftly by clasped hands, held just before his nose. Did the boy really think Teague would punish him after _that_?

Teague knelt down, ignorant to the crew's murmuring at his back, and enveloped Jack in a hug, tight enough to turn the sobs into a strangled wheeze.

"It isn't me you oughta be praying to, lad."

"I wanna be a pirate!" The reply was so ridiculous that Teague couldn't help but laugh.

"I'd have thought a bird, after that show. What'd I tell you about flying too close to the sun, boy?"


	5. Beginning

Prompt: Beginning  
Characters: Teague and young Jack  
Rating: G

Effects

"Today, being such an important day, it seems only fitting that you pick something out for yourself, boy."

"Really? I can get anything I want?" Jack is fairly well bouncing in anticipation, wide eyes upstaged by the huge grin that had formed, threatening to split his face.

"Course!" Teague laughs, bemused by the child's reaction. If only adults were so easy to please. "It's not every day a lad turns five. And a long five years it's been, too."

"I want a pistol!"

"Bear in mind, when I say 'anything' I mean anything your mother would approve of."

The boy takes pause, brow creased in deep concentration as he further explores his options. Teague's more than a little surprised that there's no argument over the arrangement, but then, the lad's mother has certainly done a smart job of raising him proper.

"I want a hat, then. If I can't get a pistol, or sword. Unless I can get a parrot? One what talks and can curse!"

He chuckles deeply at that. Jack's certainly inherited his imagination. "Nay, Jackie. A hat's a fine choice. Hat's what really makes a man, after all."


	6. Xenophobia

Prompt: Xenophobia  
Characters: Jack  
Rating: G

Home

He knew from the instant he set foot on these distant shores, that London was a world away from his native Madagascar, but Jack had never considered just how drastically different the two islands truly were.

One was composed of life – held it sacred, and deeply housed within its forests, mountains, and swamps. Every color imaginable existed there – from the darkest brown, to the brightest green. The animals were constantly chittering, crooning, screeching, and scurrying, and their human compatriots were no less active. The only life he had known consisted of days spent playing at the beach, exploring age-old caverns, and discovering all that the world had to offer. Nights were spent listening to well-worn voices and instruments, watching the twirling and laughter of a civilization that knew what it meant to live, and weren't afraid to enjoy it.

The other simply _was. _True, the city was swelling with life; the continuous, never-ending rush of gentry, and peasants alike, all vying for the slightest bit of space the land had to offer. The only colors evident were shades of brown and grey – the color of filth, muck, and squalor. Beasts lurked in every alley, devouring the meek, while eluding the stronger predators. There was nothing left to uncover here, it had all been taken and hoarded away by the greedy claws of nobility. Men here knew life, and feared it – Feared the unknown, and unfamiliar, and stubbornly clung to their ancestor's beliefs. Refused to realize that there was something more to life, that they had the right to be happy.

His mother had always told him to respect everyone, no matter what they looked like, or believed, and his father had taught him that life was for living, and that there was nothing to regret but holding back. But here, in this labyrinth of cowards and bigots, Jack felt a stranger to his own kind. A flame too faint to light the way. A bird without its wings.


	7. Despair

Prompt: Despair  
Characters: Teague  
Rating: G

Spring

Teague knows that most might consider it a time for celebration – to revel in the intricate mysteries of life, to toast the beginning of a new existence – but he takes no joy in the good news. The weight of it is heavy on his shoulders – a burden of knowledge.

He thinks it might be easier if she were simply another whore. A no name face, good for a night, but worth nothing, ultimately. But life has a way of being needlessly cruel, and Teague hasn't the heart to abandon his wife. Nor does he have the strength to convince her to give up something so dear to her.

Sala has spoken of children, offhandedly, since before they married, but it was never anything more than talk. Now it's real, growing within her, like a parasite.

A bolder man would have already remedied the situation, but Teague's seen the light in her eyes when she speaks of _it_. Has heard her laugh, genuine and full of love, as she lifted her shirt to show him the unseemly bulge, rapidly destroying her inherent beauty.

He wonder, sometimes, if it would be easier to break her heart, than it would to continue on with this charade, pretending to care for a being he wants nothing to do with. For now, he can only pray that bravado will be enough to convince her of his devotion. At least until he can figure out a better solution.


	8. Touch

Prompt: Touch  
Characters: Teague, Sala (Mama Sparrow)  
Rating: G

Quickening

"Do you feel that?" Sala laughs, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, her other hand clutching his wrist, trapping him.

Teague feels quite a lot of things, right now. Fear, anxiety, and nausea, being the predominant of the lot. Not that he would ever admit to any of it. Although shock, amazement, and, peculiarly enough, a twinge of protectiveness are also present.

He doesn't think he's ever felt anything so bizarre before in his life. It feels like there are tiny, rippling waves, cresting and gently breaking, under the surface of her swollen belly.

Their child is alive.

He can't remember seeing Sala so happy before, and he can't keep from smiling at that. This could be worth it, in the end.


	9. Fight

Prompt: Fight  
Characters: Teague, Sala (Mama Sparrow), and young Jack  
Rating: G

Blackguard

"I know you want Jack to be just like you, but all of this pirate business has to stop." Teague only grunts in acknowledgement – he's heard the argument enough times to quote it verbatim.

"A little fun isn't going to hurt him," is all he has left to say on the matter. She won't listen, regardless of his opinion.

"It's dangerous! You of all people should know that. How many times have you nearly been killed? And me?" Sala scoffs, scowling, as she gestures wildly between the two of them.

"It's only a game; he'll outgrow it." The truth. Children love to fantasize, and Jack is far from an exception.

"Don't stand there and lie to me, Donnagán." The use of his Christian name puts him in a fouler mood than he'd currently been in; they both know it's the only reason she bothered to use it.

"Born and raised in a thief's den. Can't expect him to dream of growing up respectable, can you?" he retorts, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Do you even care that he could be _killed_?" A low blow, but he can give just as well as he gets.

"No, I wouldn't. I never wanted anything to do with him; you dragged me into it!"

Movement catches his eye, and he turns in time to see Jack staring at him, eyes rimmed with angry tears. The boy's name dies on his lips, as the child runs from the room, tossing his hat to the floor, furiously.

Teague thinks he's never felt more like a pirate than he does now.


	10. Naked

Prompt: Naked  
Characters: Jack, Teague, Sala (Mama Sparrow)  
Rating: G

Breeching

"I told you, he was too young," Sala hissed, gripping a squirming mass of caramel and tarp colored knot. She looked thoroughly ridiculous – red faced, and hair in complete disarray – as she wrestled with the rebellious child.

Jack, for his part, was putting up a gallant struggle, screaming and kicking, as he tried to twist free from his mother's iron-clad grip. The boy certainly knew nothing of humility, with his parts hanging about for all the world to see.

It took Teague every last bit of restraint to bite back a laugh.

"You didn't find this so amusing, when he bloodied your nose."

Teague grimaces at that, gently dabbing his stained kerchief at the sore appendage. Boy is stronger than he looks.

"Let him go, then. We'll just burn his short-coats, and give him time. Lad'll get cold, sooner or later; Come crying for his breeches." It worked for him, at least.


	11. Surprise

Prompt: Surprise  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: G

Discovery

There is a nagging, pestering sensation at his elbow, that he can't quite place. Something is stirring – the ship's cat, likely. One good nudge ought to do the job, but instead of a cat, Teague finds his wife growling sleepily at him, instead.

He rolls over to find Sala glaring at him, rubbing her stomach in irritation. There's no pesky feline to be found. In the fog of sleep, it takes him a minute to put two and two together.

"Kicked me."

"The baby always moves, when you're around," is the sleepy reply. Sala closes her eyes again, as if she hasn't said anything unusual at all.

"He knows me?" he asks, wondering if he's understood her.

Sala peers at him through heavy eyes, smiling. "Of course. You're their father."

The knowledge sparks something within him, deeply buried under age and a callousness that's he's long since depended on to survive. The baby knows him. It's almost uplifting, if it weren't for the sense of shame, suffocating him.

"I'm sorry, little one," he murmurs, but he knows it won't make up for anything.


	12. Birth

Prompt: Birth  
Characters: Teague  
Rating: G

Midwife

The child is born six weeks before his time – a miracle that he'd strength enough to draw breath, let alone feed. Or so the midwife told him. Fortunate, still, that Sala hadn't bled to death.

Or that no one had been shot during the fiasco.

Teague will never forgive the midwife for her cowardice – the woman had been nothing but stoic until the storm hit, and it seems ridiculous that she should lose her calm at the precise moment her expertise were required.

It's of little consequence in the end; both mother and child are well, now, and Teague is certain that the trauma of birthing a child will fade in time. Anything is possible, with enough ale to speed along the process.


	13. Love

Prompt: Love  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: G

Language

When they first met, they could scarily make out a word the other spoke.

Teague often complained that she couldn't speak a lick of proper English – insisted that she was hopeless at the language. Sala scolded that he spoke with a drunkard's tongue, capable of reducing even the simplest of terms into an unintelligible slur.

Stubbornness and pride won out, and words quickly lost their importance, as the other senses swiftly refined themselves, became accomplished at picking up the lost meanings.

He came to teach her of freedom, passion, and what it meant to truly know herself. She, in turn, imparted benevolence, peace, and an awareness for the beauty of the world to him.

Years passed - spent learning, exploring, and understanding - before Sala found that she had grown to enjoy his quiet murmur. Teague, too, realized that he had become accustomed her minced speech.

Words hardly mattered anymore, for they had found something in the silence.


	14. Black

Prompt: Black  
Characters: Teague, Sala, and baby Jack  
Rating: G

Wonder

Teague never imagined that his first odyssey into fatherhood might take place at the birth. Could never, in all of his paranoid musings, have dreamt that he'd be expected to deliver the babe. It's a woman's business, after all. But with the midwife unconscious, (the result of cracking her head against a desk in a frenzy), Sala declared that if Teague didn't help, she'd do it herself. Damn his conscious.

The first thing he sees of his child is a squalling little mess, blood and birth stained. Tiny lungs straining to be heard, as the boy voices his displeasure about the situation. Teague thinks he might scream too, had he any air left in him. The whole affair has left him winded, and light-headed.

He's aware of Sala, crying and gasping, somewhere beyond his reach. Vaguely conscious of the wind, howling and screaming above and around him. He's even mindful of how he must look – pale, wide-eyed, shaking, and drenched to his elbows in blood, as he holds the flailing infant, uncertainly. But none of it matters, really.

He has a son, now. He never thought that it would mean anything to him, but it does. More than anything.

The boy has his eyes.


	15. Bed

Prompt: Bed  
Characters: Teague, Sala, and baby Jack  
Rating: G

Bed: Tranquility 

"Come here, darling. Time to eat," Sala croons, leaning over the pram, eager to see her little boy again. Her heart leaps to her throat at the sight of an empty cradle.

Tears sting her cheeks as she races to the bed-chamber, intent on having Teague organize some sort of search party. How far could a baby possibly get on a ship?

Sala rounds the corner to find Teague sprawled across the bunk, mouth parted, snoring gently. It's nothing unusual, in and of itself, but the additional bundle resting protectively against his chest is unexpected, to say the least.

She's half-way through a furious oath, cursing the man for taking the baby without telling her, before she actually realizes that Teague _wanted _to take the baby.

Her cry has startled her husband back to consciousness, and she's torn between scolding him for wearing that stupid look – large eyes, scrunched in confusion, and heavy with sleep – and kissing him, for being _him. _

She does neither, only smiles, heedless of her tears. They'll all do just fine – Teague always pulls through, in the end.


	16. Age

Prompt: Age  
Characters: Teague  
Rating: G

Growing Up

For a week now, he's watched the boy, taking careful note of the slightest of changes in behavior.

Short disappearances, gradually lengthening each day; the dazed expression that now resides on the once vibrant features; the slight swagger in his walk; and the fool's grin that appears at random intervals.

There's no doubting the lad's condition: calf-love.

There's only one thing that can lead too, Jack having the charisma and charm that he does. But the boy will get a thorough harangue, and will likely squirm more than he has in years, Teague thinks, looking grimly at the sheath, laying innocently in his palm.

He's not ready for grandchildren, just yet.


	17. Yearn

Prompt: Yearn  
Characters: Teague  
Rating: G

Incomplete

Teague has never known a longing so fierce before. It seems as if every waking thought somehow drifts back to memories of her. The feel of her, soft and willing in his hands. Her ample curves, settled snugly against his lap, pressed against his chest. He can see her clearly in his mind's eye, can ever remember the smell of her: A healthy bronze color, and an earthly scent that reminds him of warm nights spent lazing at the Cove.

His lust has grown so strong, that he feels useless without her; not even worthy to be deemed human. She's become a part of him, integrated into his identity. He doesn't feel himself without her and often wonders how anyone can recognize him, anymore.

Of course, Sala laughs, amazed that a man can cling so desperately to bits of wood and string. She doesn't understand what music can do for a soul.


	18. Envy

Prompt: Envy  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: G

Fool's Game

She smiles, cocking one shoulder, giving the man a clearer view of her cleavage. He smiles, too, eyes traveling down to admire the offering.

He whispers something inappropriate, but Sala isn't concentrating on him. She knows that she's being watched – can feel the hawk-eyes, burning in silent fury. It won't be long yet.

The man laughs, and she joins him, feigning amusement at his comment. Casually placing on hand on the table, she pushes a loose lock behind her ear, glancing at him through heavy lids. She feels heat rise to her cheeks as the sailor settles his hand atop hers, his foot slowly navigating its way through her skirts.

The music has since stopped, and Sala can't help but bite her lip, grinning. The man believes that she's still flirting, and she's content to let him. This is far easier than she imagined it would be.

Something comes flying from the corner of her eye, and she only has time to gasp, pulling away from the object, before a loud THWANG resonates throughout the room.

She looks back up to find that her would-be-suitor has toppled from his seat, unconscious. The Devil himself is left in his place, dark and glaring, as he holds the remnants of a once proud instrument. He gives her a hard look before turning, seething as he disappears through the crowd.

Watching him leave, Sala wonders if he really thinks it was ever more than a game.


	19. Fever

Prompt: Fever  
Characters: Teague and young Jack  
Rating: G

Vigil

"Da?" four year old Jack asks, large eyes barely able to peer over the edge of his father's knee. "Why are you watching mumma sleep?"

Teague jerks out of a light doze, blinking groggily as he searches the darkness for the boy. He isn't left looking for long, as Jack has taken it upon himself to crawl into his lap, urged on by the ominous shadows lurking about the room. Smiling grimly, he scoops the lad up, surprised, not for the first time, at how natural fatherhood has become.

He knows that Jack shouldn't be here at all – Sala needs her rest – but the child's honest confusion is enough that they can risk a quiet conversation, if only for a moment. "She's not well, Jackie. Burning up, something terrible. A little rest, and she'll be able to fight it off. Just got to give her some peace."

"But why is she sick?" Large eyes peer out at him, hidden beneath a tousled fringe. Teague can only hope he's imagining the tears brimming there.

He grimaces, torn between lying and giving the truth, unsure as to which would do the least damage. "It doesn't matter how. She's ill and will need company once she wakes."

Jack seems to take this as an adequate response, for he nuzzles against Teague's chest, making himself comfortable, and falls silent. He must be tired, if he isn't still yammering away.

The two sit in darkness, watching the steady rise and fall of mother and wife's breast, taking comfort from it in their own ways. The boy doesn't make a peep, for which Teague is grateful.

It doesn't take long before Jack is breathing deeply, sound asleep. Teague shifts, pulling his coat from its resting place on the chair's arm, and carefully drapes it across the lad's scrawny shoulders.

Concealed by the shadows, Teague feels comfortable enough to rest his chin against the boy's head, still focused on his motionless ward, an arm's length away. He can feel his son's heart beating peacefully against his own, and he finds himself pulling the child just a little closer.

There's a sort of pain in knowing that Jack is his only child, but he knows he's blessed to have even the one. The Lord could have been far less forgiving, to a man like him.


	20. Shudder

Prompt: Shudder  
Characters: Teague  
Rating: Soft R

Revelations

When Sala had told him to occupy himself, throwing a tattered novel down on the nightstand, Teague had expected his night would be anything but occupying. To his great satisfaction, he found that the volume was none other than the nefarious _Kama Sutra._

Flipping past all of the introductory rubbish – namely the rules of courtship (he'd already mastered that, hadn't he?) – Teague paused, grinning as he found what he'd been looking for: The stages of intercourse. There was nothing particularly interesting about the passage, as he'd experienced it all before, although the last stage brought a chuckle from him:

"_When the lingam is in the yoni, and moved up and down frequently, and without being taken out, it is called the "sporting of a sparrow". This takes place at the end of congress."_

After his humor faded, Teague stared at the passage for a moment, wondering why it seemed so familiar. Something itched at the back of his mind, and he struggled to recall just what it was.

Something Jack had said? No… Jack hadn't said much on their last encounter. He'd stormed off in a fury before they'd had any chance to discuss anything. Only said he'd changed his name – didn't care if he was disowned or not – he'd not be burdened with his father's legacy.

Why then did the book bring his son to mind?

"Sporting of a sparrow…" Teague muttered, tuning in to the phrase. Something there struck him. Jack had never been much of a good sport – the boy could never stand to lose anything. But still, the answer didn't quite satisfy him.

Sparrow. Jack had mentioned something about the creature, hadn't he? Birds of a feather? No, Jack was as aloof as they came… There was hardly anything remarkable about the bird – common as you please, they were. Nothing like his Jackie.

Teague skimmed over the passage once more, trying to take it all into context. His breath hitched and he found himself slamming the book shut, a chill sweeping over him as enlightenment came.

_Jack Sparrow. _That's what the boy had called himself.

Teague would never look at his son the same way again.


	21. Youth

Prompt: Youth  
Characters: Teague and teen Jack  
Rating: G

Temptation

The room is a mess of upturned furniture, scattered trinkets, and empty bottles. Persian rug rumpled, brocade pillows tossed haplessly about, and treasures from every corner of the world – tribal mask, clay pots, hookah, ornamental sword, and a hobnob of instruments – strewn across the floor of the large parlor.

The oak armchair has fallen to its side, one leg snapped clean off. The armoire's doors are thrown wide open, shelves bare, as most of its contents have found their way to the ground. What hasn't, they'll likely never see again. The china set is mainly in pieces, all but the kettle reduced to a mosaic of destruction.

In the midst of the battlefield lays a mass of crumpled and stained linen. The only thing that makes it recognizable as human is the mess of dark hair, partially obscuring the sharp features Teague knows all too well.

A bottle of whiskey – Teague's best – is still clutched in the boy's hand, a testament to his dedication. To Jack's credit, the room is remarkably free of vomit, or any other foul matter (although the path outside is far less fortunate). How the boy managed that, Teague will never know.

It's a wonder, too, that Teague can't quite muster the strength to lose his temper – Sala's wrath will surely suffice as punishment enough. Besides, Teague's made a fair share of coin off of the debauchery. How could Jack possibly withstand the temptation of a night alone with the house to himself?


	22. Pain

Prompt: Pain  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: PG-13

Ensnare

"Come on, woman. It won't be forever, just when you're off bouncing around the ship."

Sala eyed the tattered length of cloth wearily, resting lightly in Teague's hand like a dead serpent.

"No, I've already tried it once," she said, arms crossed defiantly.

Teague gave her a pointed look, standing a little straighter than before. "Aye, and it worked," he growled, thrusting the cloth in her face.

She arched back, scowling as she pushed his hand away. "It hurt."

Teague narrowed his eyes, scowling in return. Sala hardly expected him to pounce on her, pinning her against the wall. "For the good of the whole," he said, capturing her arms above her head.

"How?" she demanded, trying to push him away with her shoulders. Teague only grinned, pressing himself against the length of her.

"Kept us from hurting," he explained, nipping her ear. "You've no idea how it pains a man," at the word 'pain', he ground his hips against hers, causing her to gasp, muscles tensing at the sensation. "To see all those curves, unfettered and free to go about as they please," he continued, grasping both of her arms in one hand, using the other to fondle her breast. "Especially with you in the rigging."

"Speaking of rope," Sala murmured, lips nearly touching his. "I have a better use for these," she said, tugging the cloth from his grip. She made to lower her hands to his shoulders, only to find her arms bound together.

Teague's shark grin should've been indication enough that he'd already beaten her to it.


	23. Silence

Prompt: Silence  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: G

A Different Perspective

She bore the secret for nearly three months before Teague finally confronted her, seeking assurance of her fidelity. She'd been furious with him – couldn't believe that he had the nerve to question her loyalty. That he could only justify the situation by removing himself from the equation.

As if they hadn't been lucky enough to go for so long without a mishap.

He'd stood quietly during her tirade, eyes never once straying from hers, not making so much as a suggestion of wanting to refute her claims. She'd screamed until her throat was raw; spoke of his own infidelities, called him every foul name she could think of, but still she received no reaction.

It was only after she'd flown at him in a frenzy -- intent on hurting him as badly as she could and not caring what he might do in return -- that he finally reacted. And only then, all he could muster was the strength to pin her to the wall, dark eyes fathomless as he held her there. Neither spoke – they scarcely had will enough to breathe -- all they could do was stare: Sala in fear of what he might do, and Teague, seemingly more dead than alive.

She didn't know how long they stood like that, each waiting for the other to make the first move; to speak the first lie. She made no effort to suggest giving up her hard won prize, and Teague gave no indication of apologizing for his accusations.

An unspoken accordance passed between them; he wouldn't stand in the way of her endeavor, but neither would he support it. It didn't come as a surprise, although his lack of emotion certainly did. He made no attempts to sway her; knew well enough that he couldn't intimidate or manipulate her; he simply gave her one final look before leaving her to the silence of their shared chambers.

She'd cried herself into hysterics afterwards – too numb to process anything and too scared to think of what she might come to find if she did give pause for thought.

She knew that Teague had said many cruel things in the past, often in jest and sometimes in anger, but never before had Sala realized how painful silence could be.


	24. Fire

Prompt: Fire  
Characters: Teague and Caroline  
Rating: G

This drabble won't make as much sense if you haven't read, For Thy Love's Sake, from the Mothers of the Caribbean challenge. (You can find the link in my profile.) But it can be read alone.

Also, I am very very rusty. I hope you've all had your tetanus shots.

Fire

"I won't go," he seethes. "It's not fair!"

Caroline sighs, eyes rolling heavenward, seeking patience. Donnagán's jaw is set, lips thin and brows lowered, face ruddy in rage. Her bull-headed little boy.

"You think there's room for fairness, anymore? This is what must be done," she hisses back, taking his wrist and dragging him forward. There's little time to afford arguing – the patrol will come looking for her before long.

A growl sounds from behind her, but she pays it no heed. She's had enough of his temper.

"Mam, no." Don digs his heals in, wrenching her backwards. She stumbles in surprise and spins, striking him soundly in the cheek. There are no tears or sobs, only wide-eyed bewilderment as he presses a hand to the white of the sore.

There's no room in her mind for regret; not with such a heavy task set before her.

They press on through the winding corridors and darkened back-alleys, silence their only companion. A short sojourn through the city, yet an eternity passes before they reach their destination.

A lonely house awaits them at the end of the passage, windows eddy black. The white quarantine flag lies in tatters above the door knocker; another family given in to defeat.

Caroline pops the planks from the window, holding her breath for a moment, panic rising at the squeal of nails loosing. There's not a body around to hear.

She lets out a sigh of relief, stomach roiling despite the act.

"Remember what I told you?" she says, although she's certain this is the fifth time she's asked since this morning.

Don glares down at his shoes, arms crossed. He makes no effort to speak, but she'll not be deterred by his fit.

"Through the cupboard, there's a crawl-way that'll lead to the surface. It's big enough for you to manage. Once you get topside, make your way north, to Leith Docks. Go to 'The Hope and Anchor' and ask for Seamus."

"I won't do it."

Caroline's teeth gnash together, heat rising to color her own cheeks. "Go, Donnagán. I'll not tell you twice." Her hands shake as she clutches her skirts, if only to keep from lashing out again.

Her son, for all his foolishness, knows when he's met her limit. He shifts his weight for a moment, eyes darting around before coming to meet hers defiantly.

"I hate you."

One look at those searing black eyes is all it takes to strengthen her resolve. Her son will _live._

She chokes on a laugh, smiling bitterly. That fire's the only thing that will serve him. Her carefully laid plans, the knapsack at his side, the coin in his pocket – none will last beyond the fortnight.

She kneels down, still chuckling, tears brimming and spilling down her chin. Donnagán makes to squirm away, but she'll not grant him that freedom. Not now. Not just yet.

"My Donny, all smoldering flames," Caroline whispers, embrace iron-clad. "Don't let it consume you."

A stiff nod and then he's clambering through the broken window, dust swirling through the hole, made rebellious at having been disturbed. The sound of rummaging goes on only for a moment; a door scrapes open, then slams shut.

Silence descends.


	25. Observe

Prompt: Observe  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: G

Observe

"Beautiful," he groaned, kissing her neck.

"Who? Me or the baby?"

"You. Beautiful woman." He kissed her again.

"A beautiful wife." Nipped her ear.

"Beautiful mother." Pecked her cheek.

"You don't know what I'd have given, to have you as me own. Could've had me on for more than what you did."

Sala chuckled, smiling. "I know, but I couldn't stand to see you so miserable."

Teague glared jokingly, then nipped her neck, eliciting a yelp. She swatted at him, but he caught her hand and kissed it, eyes shining playfully.

"And Jack?" she asked, before he had a chance to further distract her.

He paused, looking thoughtful. "Aye, he's a fey one. Already got that beauty to him – 's unnatural. He'll no doubt be a trickster. You can see it in those eyes."

"Your eyes."

"Aye, that's half of why he'll be trouble."

"And the other half?"

"Believe that'd be you, pet. Never counted meself among the attractive."


	26. Siblings

Prompt: Siblings  
Characters: Teague and Jack  
Rating: G

Siblings

"How is it that I never had any brothers?" Jack asked, voice slurred with rum, muscles lax with the late hour.

Teague regarded him with glassy eyes from across the table, smoke lazily circling about his head. "Who said you didn't?" Teague purred, closing his eyes as he took another pull from the cigar.

Jack's brow furrowed as he contemplated his father's statement. "None. That I know of. Mum'll kill you, mind."

"Mind yourself," Teague huffed, rolling his eyes. "They came and went," he continued, waving a hand vaguely.

"He speaks, but never issues a word."

"All manner of cures, lad," Teague clarified. "Mercury, penny-royal, lemon skins and the like. Takes more care getting rid of 'em than making 'em."

Jack gave a derisive snort, lips curling in a distasteful grin. "The one that got away, eh?"

It was Teague's turn to scoff now. "Put the fear of God in me. Were never a praying man 'til you came along."

"The only thing you've ever prayed for—"

"Is patience," Teague finished. "God and all others know you tempt a man," he smirked, fingers brushing against the butt of his pistol.

Jack did smile at that, gold grin lighting the dusky room. "You'd be lonesome without me."

"Keep telling yourself that, Jackie."


	27. Alone

Prompt: Alone  
Characters: Teague and Sala  
Rating: G

Alone

He grabs her hands – so much smaller than his own gnarled claws – forcing her to take a tentative step towards him. She laughs, looking at him curiously, even as she twines her fingers through his.

He smiles lopsidedly, a nervous, awkward thing to do, but he can't help himself in this.

_Come with me._

Even if she knew the language, he's not sure he could trust himself to give voice to it.

Still, she understands. Clever a bird as any he ever knew.

Her smile falters, silver eyes darting to the floor for a moment before returning to meet his gaze. There's resolve there, but that fire he's so accustomed to is gone. Snuffed out by some familiar obligation he will never fathom. Fond as a besom, he sometimes thinks, noting dully that he feels no pride in the notion. Not the way he used to.

He can only pray his response isn't so clear – disappointment, perhaps; just a tinge of wounded pride, not that he'll ever admit to such a thing.

He slackens his grip, his own smile grown wide, not in humor or malevolence, simply a gesture to cover the hurt – an ill-fitting mask, to be certain.

He gives her hands a quick squeeze in parting before pulling away. Best cut and run while there's still some fond memory to hold to.

_You've made your choice, now it's my turn._

She lets out a tiny breath of air, as if she means to speak but thinks better of it.

He doesn't know whether to thank her or curse her. Still, she's just a lass, and he's a man past his prime; the folly's on him, if ever there were a soul to blame.

She watches silently as he turns to go, eyes downcast.

He tries not to curse himself for hesitating at the threshold.


	28. Smudge

Prompt: Smudge  
Characters: Sala and Jack  
Rating: G

Smudge

Sala hummed contently, holding the translucent cloth towards the window; the morning sun illuminating the tendrils of ivory in its pattern. "What about this one?" she asked, holding the band up for the discriminate pirate to inspect.

"Mum," Jack harrumphed, arms crossed in exasperation. "It's got _flowers_ on it."

Sala laughed, discarding the sash among a pile of its fallen brethren. "Oh, you're right. Your father would never be caught dead wearing that."

Jack nodded his assent, having not yet grasped the ability to detect sarcasm. Most of the wardrobe scattered about the floor had, at some point, belonged to the Keeper.

The child grinned broadly, bounding towards the sea-chest. Its innards were strewn haplessly over the rim - primarily composed of shirts, trousers, and sashes - long since put to rest. Everything bore testament to a well-lived life – tar, blood, salt stains and moth-holes having rendered most of the articles out of commission.

Much to her amusement, Jack was proving to be far more fastidious than she had imagined; heavy patterns, unseemly tears or stains, the wrong material or cut were all grounds for dismissal. It wasn't enough to play pirate –her son needed to look every inch the part.

She watched for a moment as he postured before the looking glass, puffing his chest out proudly, fists resting on his hips, a slight cock in his stance. She snorted despite herself, earning a rather indignant expression from the young boy. Jack glared at her reflection, a miniature version of the one she was accustomed to, but far less intimidating.

She turned her attentions to the desk and began rummaging through the mess of jewelry – chiefly ornate rings and gold hoops – strewn about. From the corner of her eye she watched at Jack sported a thinning bicorn, taking pain to ensure that his new earring was situated just so beneath the mass of bandana and leather. He'd recently been on an expedition with his father, rounding the Horn of Africa, thus earning himself the honorary earring to signify the journey.

It had been all he could talk about for several weeks after.

Sala shook her head fondly, pulling out a tin of kohl from amidst the table's wreckage.

"Turn around," she commanded, kneeling down on one knee. The gesture earned her another scathing look, which she also ignored.

Jack halted mid-stride, giving a wary look towards the silver tin. "I'm not wearing face paint," he insisted, nose upturned.

Sala rolled her eyes before grabbing his arm, causing him to stumble the last step. "It protects your eyes, daft child. I'm not sharing my crimson with anyone, not even _you." _She puckered her lips, leaving a large red stain on her son's cheek.

Jack yanked away from her, eyes squinting as he scrubbed furiously at the mark. "Mum, I'm not a baby," he whined.

"Of course not," she agreed, applying the khol with care. "But most pirates don't mind kisses."

"_Those_ kisses are different."

The withering stare Jack gave her was too much to bear; she couldn't help the snort of laughter that bubbled free. "You are your father's son," Sala cackled.

Jack's cheeks turned a shade pinker, and he began fiddling with his hat once more. "Can I go now?" he muttered. "Basil's mum won't let him play after dark."

The lunch hour hadn't yet passed, but Sala didn't think to point that out. "All right, I think you look right and fitting. Leave Teague's knife here – he'll be furious if you lose it."

"I won't lose it," Jack insisted, hand straying to the sheath at his side. It was Sala's turn to give him a hard look. Upon realizing that he wasn't going to win the argument, Jack sighed, pulling the dirk free and placing it in his mother's hand.

"Leave Nelson's goats alone, come back for supper, and for the love of Krishna, _don't leave the wharf_." She felt the need to list off rules, already knowing Jack would find five other forbidden things to do. Still, she was his mother.

Jack chirped a happy, "Yes ma'am!" as he raced for the door. She doubted he'd paid any attention to what'd she'd just said.

"Jack."

Sala grinned fondly as the boy came skidding to a stop, his shoulders already drooping, even though he hadn't been reprimanded yet.

"You've a smudge," she brushed at her own cheek in demonstration.

Jack stuck his tongue out, laughing freely as he dodged the shirt that was thrown his way.


End file.
